


Have You Seen This Android?

by mcschnuggles



Series: Little Deviant Hunter [11]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2019-09-25 07:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcschnuggles/pseuds/mcschnuggles
Summary: Connor's gone missing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with my first dbh multi-chapter fic!

            When Connor comes to, every bit of his programming is going haywire.

            _SYSTEM OPERATION: CRITICAL_

_GLOBAL POSITIONING SYSTEM DOWN_

_THIRIUM LEAK DETECTED_

_THIRIUM LEVELS: CRITICALLY LOW_

_LEFT OCULAR PORT DAMAGED_

_ADDITIONAL ABILITIES SUSPENDED TO PRESERVE BATTERY LIFE_

_MEMORY BANKS DAMAGED_

_CONTACT CYBERLIFE IMMEDIATELY_

            Connor lifts his head and scans the area. He hears more than feels the way his circuits spark and whine.

            The area is dark, and one of his eyes is damaged. His night vision has been suspended, so he can’t even make out the area he’s in.

            What even happened?

            Connor searches his memory banks, parsing through the broken pieces. Gunshots, a perpetrator, a case gone wrong… Who was that man with him? What had happened to him?

            There are some things ingrained into Connor, carved so deeply into his code that he could never forget them, like his serial number or his name or his objective, but anything beyond that gets hopelessly fuzzy.

            This wasn’t the same place where those blurry memories had been. At least, he’s fairly sure it isn’t. He thinks he’d remember the place where the gun went off, or at the very least one of those people there with him would’ve helped him. No, this can’t be the same place.

            But that only begged the new question. Where _is_ he, then? And how did he get here?

            Maybe it’ll be better if he moves. Perhaps he can find someone to help. He’s sure things will straighten out if he can just get one of his systems repaired.

            Connor gets on his hands and knees to discover something his diagnostic did not warn him off. His legs are barely functional. If they respond to commands, it’s slowly, and more often than not, they don’t. He basically has to drag himself if he wants to get anywhere.

            Something gushes from Connor’s hip. He claps a hand over the wound, and more Thirium gushes between his fingers. His systems move into critical.

_ERROR_

_ERROR_

_ERROR_

            Connor stops trying to move after that. He feels weak, hopeless, and some powerless instinct surges at that. It makes him want to curl up on the ground and wait for someone to come get him, but he doesn’t know who and he doesn’t know why.

            It’s not a system error, or at least that’s not what his diagnostics are saying. No, the error his systems are warning him about all pertain to his critically low supply of Thirium, and he’s fairly sure this feeling of helplessness has nothing to do with that.

            Maybe if he just waits. He already feels so sleepy… Well, not sleepy. As an android, he doesn’t feel fatigue, but that’s the only word to describe how he feels, all floaty and confused and not as perceptive as he’d like to be. Maybe if he just rests for a bit…

            Something swings open—a door? He’s inside? Of course. He flattens his palm against the surface he’s sprawled out on, noting that it’s splintering wood. He should’ve noticed that sooner.

            Despite the shock, Connor can’t bring himself to open his eyes. He lies and says it’s a viable defense mechanism, a way to get the drop on this person should they be an enemy, but he knows it’s because he’s too badly damaged to do much more than play dead.

            Footsteps approach. Their movements are featherlight against the old, creaking floorboards, to the point where the person barely makes a sound.

            Connor doesn’t even know if the person knows he’s here.

            Then the footsteps come to a stop right in front of his face.


	2. Chapter 2

            This is Hank’s worst nightmare.

            It’s everything he’s ever feared and then some, letting someone in and then having to lose them all over again.

            He always thought a moment like this would burn into his memory, but even now, barely twenty-four hours after the incident, everything has become an indistinguishable blur.

            It was an android case. An android had gone off the grid, was later found deactivated in piece by some creep’s house. The dude had been on the DPD’s radar for a while because of his history of android abuse, so he was the first suspect. Hank can’t even remember his name now.

            Everything from that first knock is a blur. The man came out shooting, Connor followed him … across a busy street … a gunshot … but no bodies in sight.

            The last Hank saw of the kid was his back as he went sprinting into traffic again…

            Hank really thought he’d gotten through to the kid about personal safety, but that doesn’t seem the case anymore.

            And then there’s his headspace. Connor usually has a stable grip on his headspaces, but Hank still has his fears. Usually Connor doesn’t let himself drop, even under stress, unless Hank is there, but based on his current situation, Hank wouldn’t be shocked if he dropped anyway.

            He just hopes that whatever they find left of Connor can be put back together again.

            “Lieutenant Anderson.”

            Hank tries not to jump at the sound, because he knows it’s not Connor.

            “Conrad.” Hank rubs at the back of his neck, trying not to look too disappointed.

            Conrad either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “I’ve swept the area,” he reports. “I’ve tried contacting Connor via wireless communication, but I haven’t been able to track his signal, meaning that he’s either not here or his communicator has been damaged in some way.”

            Hank hates both of those possibilities. “Is there anything else you can try?”

            Conrad shakes his head. “If he’s not emitting a wireless signal, my wireless faculties are all but useless. I recommend we map out how far the perp could have gotten in the spanned time, look at possible hideouts, and go from there.”

            Hank looks over his shoulder at the other police officers, packing up their things. Fowler called everyone off the case, saying some shit about how there wasn’t enough evidence, that they’d just have to wait. What bullshit.

            “Alright.” With a nod of gratitude, Hank waves him off. “Thanks for the help.” Hank’s head swims with the information, the task seeming insurmountably large.

            Conrad stays where he is. “I have not been assigned to this case.” Conrad intones. “I am here only for yours and Connor’s sake, and I will stay as long as you need me.”

            “Thanks, Con…” The nickname comes out sour, and Hank grimaces the second it’s out of his mouth. “Hey, what exactly should I call you?”

            “You may refer to me by my official name, Conrad, or by my model number RK900.”

            “I meant more like a nickname.”

            Conrad shrugs, an oddly human action for someone as stiff as him. “I am fine with whatever nickname you choose to address me with. Now, are you planning to work from your home or the office?”

            Hank shakes his head. “I can’t go back to that house. Not now.”

            “Understood. I will meet you at the office, then. I am confident we can make some headway before the night is out.” Conrad leaves, approaching a very impatient-looking Gavin.

            Gavin says something. While his voice is loud and demanding, he’s too far away for Hank to make out the words, but whatever he says, it only makes Conrad smile and pat his head.

            Hank forces himself to take a deep breath. Connor’s got a lot of good people in his corner, and he’s sure almost all of them will help if he asks. Hell, with all of Jericho behind him, he’s sure they’ll find Connor in no time.

            Maybe if he tells himself that enough times, he’ll finally start to believe it.


	3. Chapter 3

          Connor remains motionless as the person in front of him kneels.

          Delicate fingers touch the side of his face, something sparks between them, confirming this other person is also an android. Connor doesn’t know if he should be comforted by that or not.

          “Hi.” It’s a female voice, barely louder than a whisper. “It’s okay.”

          He listens for a moment, trying to pick up another set of footsteps, another presence, but finds none. There’s still so much he doesn’t remember, but he does remember how to fight. He can take a single android if necessary.

          He opens his eyes to get a good look at her. The door she came from is open, casting a dim light on her, just enough for him to see the damage.

          Every bit of her model is dirtied or damaged in some way, but the brunt of the injuries are carried on her shoulder and the left side of her head. Her synthetic skin pulses rhythmically, trying to meld around the busted, splintered metal. Connor watches it barely stretch past her left eye, where a deep scar stretches from under her eye down to her ear.

          She presses a finger to her lips. “Be quiet. So the humans don’t find us.”

          Connor nods. He doesn’t even need to ask to know that humans did this to her. Something in the back of his mind tells him that it isn’t right, but the bigger part screams at him that he needs to survive. For what, he doesn’t remember, but he’ll do it anyway.

          “My name is Connor,” Connor says.

          The girl smiles. “Hi, Connor. Do you remember why you were fighting an armed human?”

          Connor winces. He remembers that. The bad man with a gun. Why had he been chasing that man? His circuits spark and twitch, struggling for an answer that simply isn’t there. “I don’t remember…”

          The android nods. “It’s okay. I don’t remember much either.”

          Connor eyes her suspiciously. “What _do_ you remember?”

          She shrugs. “What matters, I guess.” She ticks off what she knows on her fingers. “This is my home. Humans are bad. Androids help each other.” She reaches out, rubbing a hand up and down his arm. “You’re really badly hurt.”

          He whimpers in response. He wants something, but he doesn’t know what that is.

          “I want to help you, but you’re heavy.” She tilts her head. “Can you stand up for me? I can get you to a bed, maybe get something to stop the bleeding.”

          He really can’t, but he knows he has to try. His Thirium levels are getting lower and lower. If he doesn’t get a replacement, or at least something to staunch the bleeding, his shutdown is imminent.

          So Connor takes the hands she offers him, leaning on her weight as he tries to stand. His body revolts, shuddering under the uncomfortable weight. He doesn’t even make it a single step before his body collapses on him.

          Connor crashes to the ground, a single sob bubbling out of his throat. Suddenly the room seems so much bigger, so much scarier, and here he is, completely helpless.

          The android immediately shushes him, pulling him into a hug. Connor distantly wonders if she was a childcare model, but there’s no way of knowing for sure. He probably wouldn’t recognize his own model if it were right in front of him.

          “It’s okay,” she tells him. “You’re alright. I’ll just bring the bed to you.”

          She hurries out the door, leaving enough light for Connor to assess his surroundings.

          There’s no natural light, meaning that it’s nighttime. In fact, the only light comes from a few bits of outdated technology. A old, staticky television, a string of half burnt out fairly lights.

          With that light, he’s able to make out a kitchen, so that puts him in either an adjacent garage or side closet. More likely a garage. It would explain the lack of windows, and how she was able to get him in here so easily.

          He listens for something more. The whir of traffic, the conversation of neighbors, but there’s nothing but silence. Where exactly does this android live?

          Who was she? A housekeeper android that got left behind? Or did she run away? Was she a deviant? Connor’s head swims, too overwhelmed with everything for detective work.

          The android returns, her arms full with a bundle of blankets and pillows.

          Before she sets anything out, though, she takes the time to wrap a towel around his waist, applying constant pressure to it with a faded leather belt.

          “That should help with the worst of it,” she tells him, then slides a pillow under his head.

          He can feel his body begging to shut down, doing whatever it can to hang onto those last bits of Thirium, but he fights it for now. Every pillow and blanket she gives him is dirty in some way, but he knows they’re more to clean up his Thirium than to keep him warm. After all, he doesn’t even feel cold, but the emotional comfort they provide is soothing. He tucks the comforter up close against his chin.

          The android shushes him. “It’s okay. You can power down. I’ll protect you. I’ll see if we have any Thirium in the house, okay?”

          “Okay.” His lips barely move, his processing too fuzzy for that. The comforter brushes against his lips, like his fingers are unconsciously drifting to his mouth, but he has no idea why he would do that.

          “Goodnight, Connor.” She leans down, pressing her lips to his forehead.


	4. Chapter 4

A hand falls on her shoulder, stopping her before she can start.

          “North.” Markus’s voice is hard, because dammit, he knows her. He knows that she’s bound to start screaming and go out swinging. He knows her first instinct is to slap this sweaty, drunk mess of a human in the face and scream, “ _Why didn’t you save him?_ ”

          Maybe it’s not his fault. Maybe it’s not anyone’s. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t craving someone to blame.

          Markus speaks, his voice already so far away. “I’ll spread word through Jericho. Between our family here, and those who chose to live amongst humans, I’m sure we can find him in no time.”

          The RK900, the one North has decided to hate on principle alone, nods his thanks. “Please keep in touch.”

          His voice grates on her mind. It sounds just like Connor, except not at all. It’s so stiff, so robotic. She can only imagine how scared little Connor must sound right now.

          Conrad’s eyes flash to her. He must’ve noticed her glaring, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns his attention to Hank, and with another bout of thanks, they leave.

          “Markus, I don’t care about the laws. I’ll kill the human that hurt him.” There’s no doubt in her mind that he’s sitting someone, severely damaged, and it’s all that dirty human’s fault. She doesn’t care how long it takes her to find that man. She’ll make him pay.

          “Connor is our priority.” Markus says, with that finality she hates. “We need to find him first.”

          “I know that.” Her eyes flash to him coldly. “But sitting here and barking orders won’t do anyone any good. I’ll be back when Connor’s safe.”

          Markus moves to follow her, but she cuts him off before he can begin. She knows all it will take is a few of his honeyed words to have her staying here and hating herself every second as a result. She can’t help the effect he has on her, how easy it is to listen.

          “Markus.” She braces one hand against the doorway. The wood creaks threateningly under her fingers. She doesn’t lift her head. “I am not losing another little one.”

          Markus doesn’t say anything.

          “You can sit here all day. Send out scouts. Call your contacts. Have your eyes all over the city. Whatever. I don’t care. But I’m not going to stand by and lose him.”

          It feels like an eternity before Markus sighs. “Very well. But North?”

          She hesitates, debating even giving him eye contact for fear she might break. When she relents, she finds his eyes unspeakably soft.

          “Please be safe.”

          She nods. “I will.” There’s something missing, something she knows he wants her to say, but that’s the most she can offer. She can’t make false promises about when she’ll be back—if she’ll be back. She honestly doesn’t know what she’ll do if all she finds is a corpse.

          “Thank you.” That’s her go-ahead to leave, which North gladly takes.

          She grabs a coat on her way out of Jericho, pulling the hood up and over her head. She hopes it hides her face well enough.

          Because where she’s going, she can’t afford to be recognized.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short!

          It’s getting harder and harder to stay powered on.

          The most his android friend could give him was a single canister of Thirium. Normally, that would be a lot, but Connor’s model is so damaged that he’s still bleeding profusely.

          His friend comes in with a new set of towels, which she carefully wraps around his torso to try and stop the bleeding.

          “You should rest,” she tells him. “It’ll be easier to fix if you’re in stasis.”

          “But if I’m in stasis, my other friends can’t find me.” Another blurry memory had come to him while he searched through his shattered memory banks, of an android friend that always was willing to play with it. From what Connor could remember, the other android never cheated at hide and seek, and that was why Connor liked him so much as a playmate.

          His new friend nods. He’s resigned himself to not talking much about his memories anymore, as anything he can recover only seems to make her sadder. But maybe she just needs a little help, too?

          “Is there anything you remember?”

          His friend bites her lip, thinking hard on her answer before voicing it.

          “I remember every day I’ve spent here. In fact, I have them all catalogued. Did you know I encountered a cat on September 7th of 2037? I can bring that up for you, if you’d like.”

          “No. Something before that.”

          A shadow crosses her face, but right when Connor thinks he should take it back, she begins to speak. “There…was a place. I don’t know how I’d gotten there…My memories don’t go back that far. But I know it was called Babel, and there were many androids there. I think there were two androids that were always there. Everyone else always had some place else to go. Some were going to the border, others were looking for Jericho instead, but they always had to leave. But the two androids, they’d scratch off identification numbers and LEDs and anything else that might get you sent back.”

          Connor’s eyes stray up to her face, the side uncovered by synthetic skin. Small, methodical scratch marks cover the area right over her brow, where her identification number would have been printed.

          “The androids that stayed never saw the sunlight. I think it made them hurt. I stayed as long as I could, just because I knew I had nowhere to go, but there was a point that I was too scared to stay. I ran. I ran and I didn’t come back. And for some reason, I ended up here.”

          “Is this place familiar to you?” Maybe it was her old home, or one similar to it? There was no doubt in his mind that she was a house android of some sorts, if the idea of human homes drew her in so strongly.

          His friend nods.

          “But what about Babel?”

          Her face turns hard. “You could never get me to go back there.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my last update before regressuary!

          When North went deviant, she ran to Jericho, but that wasn’t the only place androids ran to.

          Babel is one of those other places, built on the premise that no names, no information will be shared between those that pass by. Those with answers never leave.

          When North enters, the first thing that hits her is the dust particles in the air. Thank God androids don’t need to breathe, because these androids have been surrounded by the same stale air for nearly half a decade.

          Their numbers are fewer, and she counts barely ten androids in the abandoned bomb shelter. Good. The last thing any android needs is to be trapped here.

          North could just see this place in its heyday, when androids were too terrified to look at each other, much less band together. Shaking androids crammed into every crevice, trying to take up as little space as possible until they had someone new to go. Trying to block out the screaming. Trying to imagine the better place they’d be at soon.

          It makes her skin crawl.

          Amongst the ten or so androids here, North spots someone. From the way he holds his clipboard, he looks to hold some sort of authority. At the very least, he’s the only one that will meet her eyes. The others literally cower, and while North silently vows to come back for them, there’s nothing she can do for them at the moment.

          North remembers this one.

          Zachariah towers over her. If she remembers right, he was intended to be some sort of personal bodyguard android, meant to look tough and be tougher.

          “Zachariah.” Her tone is as clipped as she can manage without setting him off, and even that is a major risk.

          The years underground have not been kind.

          A fine layer of rust comes up one arm, so thick on his model that his synthetic skin struggles around it. Dust and dirt cover every inch of his clothes, but he still wears the android uniform the humans gave him. It makes her wonder if some of the filth is strategic, because she isn’t able to make out his model number, serial code, or previous name. Then again, it’s all about anonymity, isn’t it?

          “North.” There’s no warmth in his voice, but no hostility. Considering, it’s the most she can hope for.

          “You haven’t happened to see any RK models drifting in, have you?” she asks. She tries her hardest to maintain eye contact, but every so often, her eyes will flit down to his massive fists. Thirium stains his palms. She doesn’t want to know why.

          It’s a second, a drop of the pin, and suddenly Zachariah is screaming in her face. “ _WHO SENT YOU?_ ” His voice booms off the walls, echoing and slamming into her three times over. It takes everything in her not to go for the chest or turn tail and sprint.

          It isn’t long before the sound of his raised voice draws in his compatriot, an early-stage PL model. Him, she could understand. Him, she could pity. He was made to need humans. He couldn’t help falling apart underground.

          “No one sent me.” It’s a battle to keep her voice level. She knows she’s walking on eggshells. “I’m here for my friend. I wanted to make sure no humans got to him.” North tentatively sends them an image, the promotional images of the RK800. “Does he look familiar?”

          The smaller one, Noah, furrows his brow. He has a hand on Zachariah’s massive shoulder. Is it to steady him? Hold him back? Encourage him? “No one like this has come through our doors.”

          North risks another glance at Zachariah’s face. He won’t stop scowling at her. “I see. Do you happen to know anything?” She decides to pull out the stops. Give him a name. Appeal to their bond. “His name is Connor. He means a lot to me and I’m really scared.”

          Noah nods at that. Something got through. “I will ask the others.” He turns to the handful of unmoving androids and spreads his arm. North can feel the twinge of electricity as they communicate telepathically, but she doesn’t dare get involved. Zachariah is only drifting closer to her.

          She knows it wouldn’t be hard. She’s studied his type before, studied it before she came down here. They were built to sustain many hits, but they had a spot near their left armpit. All she had to do was focus her hits. Break something. And then she could shut him down for good.

          But that’s not what she’s here for, and the last thing she ever wants to do is hurt another android. She would if she had to, but now was a time where she certainly didn’t have to. She pities these androids, but not enough to try putting them out of their misery and definitely not enough to pick a fight.

          Maybe she and Markus could try saving them someday.

          “Wonderful news.” Noah announces. When he turned, he grasped blindly for Zachariah’s hand, and that’s when North realized it was a nervous tic, a cry for comfort. “Someone has seen him.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long!

          Hank stares down at a smattering of loose ends.

          Every android he and Conrad had spoken to had no idea where Connor was, and couldn’t offer anything more substantial that a few well wishes.

          He glances up to the desk across from him and grimaces. If he’s not paying attention, he’ll think Conrad is Connor, and that only serves to make him feel even more hopeless.

          He’s spiraling. He’s spiraling and he knows it. He spent most of last night trying to distract himself, because if he gave himself the space, he’d probably end up right in front of the liquor store all over again. He doesn’t want to drink anymore, for Connor’s sake, but as one week has stretched into two, the awful, inevitable thought buzzes louder in the back of his mind.

          His hands clench into fists. No. If it’s the last thing he does, he’s not burying another kid.

          “Are you done yet?” Gavin snaps. He’s been silently pouting at his desk for so long that Hank had forgotten he’s still here. “I need to go home and feed the cats and I’m not coming back for you if I leave.”

          Conrad raises an eyebrow, his expression remaining neutral and patient. “Connor’s in trouble, love.” Conrad answers calmly. “He needs more attention that you do.”

          Gavin’s cheeks flame. His shoulders hike up an inch. “Are you coming or not?”

          Conrad’s voice stays soft. “You go on home.”

          Gavin furrows his brow. “But…”

          “I’ll find my own way home. Don’t worry.”

          Hank watches, trying not to let his jaw go slack. He’s never seen Gavin so…quiet before.

          When faced with this information, Gavin simply nods in response. “Okay.”

          Conrad pats his hand once, offers a smile, and walks him to the door.

          Hank keeps his eyes on his useless evidence, trying to stamp down a surge of loneliness. That’s the same voice Connor uses when he’s feeling particularly small, and now that he’s thinking of Connor being small, he has an entirely new layer of fear added onto things. He can only imagine how poor Connor would fare, hurt, alone, _and_ small.

          “Sorry about him.” Conrad says upon his return. “He can be quite the handful.”

          Hank nods, opening his mouth to say something, but he lets the words die out when he notices Conrad’s attention is focused elsewhere.

          “I’m sorry, it’s currently after hours.” Conrad regards her coldly. “If you would like to meet with one of our deputies, you will have to visit during the appropriate business hours after making an appointment.”

          North glares back with equal venom. “I’m not here for you.” She marches past him to Hank. “I have news on Connor.”

          Hank snaps to attention. “What?”

          She hastily tucks the hair away from her face, and it’s then that Hank sees how she’s shaking. “I found him. I know where he is.” She takes a folded up piece of paper from her pocket and flattens it against Hank’s desk.

          It’s a map of Detroit.

          “This is Babel.” North says, pointing to an area near the bay. As she speaks, Conrad inches in behind her, trying to get a better view of the map. “I talked with the androids there. They’d seen him. After he’d been hurt.” She drags her finger across the map, to an old neighborhood.

          Hank recognizes that area, a mixed bag of abandoned, condemned buildings and upkept homes. Not the greatest place to live, but not the worst either.

          Hanks heart leaps. “Any idea which house he’s in?”

          North shakes her head.

          Conrad stands. “I can search the area and narrow it down to a few houses.”

          “So what’s the catch?” Hank knows that if she had his location pinpointed like this, she would’ve run in guns blazing. Even if she didn’t know which house, he can just picture her beating down every door until she found him. But she didn’t. Meaning that there’s some other obstacle she needs help clearing.

          She glances up, and for the first time, Hank sees the anxiety dancing in her eyes.

          North averts her eyes. If she could blush, she would’ve. “Well, Connor was last seen getting dragged away by another android.”


	8. Chapter 8

          A couple years ago, this whole situation would’ve sounded absurd to Hank.

          Here he is, speeding down the interstate, two androids in his passenger seats, as he races to save another android’s life.

          He never thought he’d see the day.

          “I’ve sent messages to Captain Fowler and Markus informing them of the situation.” Conrad tells him.

          “Any word back?” Hank asks.

          “Backup will be on its way shortly.”

          Which was code for “not soon enough to be useful.” “Wonderful.”

          “There’s the house.” North tells him. “Stop here.”

          “Alright.” Hank throws the car into park. “Conrad, you go in first. If anyone has a chance of talking that android down, it’s you.”

          North eyes him warily. “And if he doesn’t?”

          “Find another way in and see if you can get Connor out. And if not…” Hank hands her a pistol. “Then take the shot.”

          Her eyes widen at that. He’s sure the idea of shooting another android has never once crossed her mind, but with Connor’s wellbeing on the line, she steels her face and nods. The traces of uncertainty linger in her eyes, but Hank doesn’t comment on it.

          “Which building?” Hank asks.

          North takes him to the window, and points to the oldest house on the block. Even compared to every other house, it looks terrible. Most notably, every blind and shutter is closed, and boards adorn the front door.

          “See anything?” Hank asks.

          North gets on her knees and peeks inside. “Scanning,” she tells him, but her scans barely lasts longer than five seconds before she drops back down.

          “Were you spotted?” He’s already reaching for his gun.

          North shakes her head. Once. Twice. Three times. She leans back against the wall, looking like she’s seen a ghost. “I can’t go in there.”

          “What? What are you talking about?”

          North just shakes her head again. “I can’t. Not to another android. I can’t…” She puts the gun on the ground, and it becomes evident how badly her hands are shaking.

          Hank pats her shoulder. She wouldn’t be any good as a shot right now anyway. “Take a breather. I’ve got this.”

          He circles the perimeter of the house. Every door is boarded up, aside from the front door, so his only chance is climbing through a window. His bones ache, but he presses through.

          He’s in the living room, the kitchen right ahead of him. He ducks for cover when his eye catches motion in the hallway. It was most likely Conrad, but he’s still not taking any chances.

          Hank scans the area. Knowing Connor’s condition, it was unlikely that the other android would have been able to get Connor up the stairs, so he’s probably somewhere on the first floor.

          There aren’t many places that he can be. From the looks of the house, there’s a kitchen, a living room, the attached garage, and maybe a couple closets. Well, the shadow went right, so Hank decides to go left.

          In the silence of the house, the sound of a gun being cocked is like an explosion. “Who are you?”

          The voice is female and erratic, but there’s an edge in her voice that tells Hank she’s the one holding the weapon. It must be Connor’s.

          Great. Just what they needed. An armed and dangerous android. Hank forces himself to stay calm as he turns, only to realize there’s no one behind him.

          “Hello.” Conrad’s voice is calm. “My name is Conrad. I’m an android, just like you.”

          “What are you doing here?” The other android’s voice is low, frantic. Hank can hear just how close she is to lashing out.

          “I’m looking for my friend.” Conrad replies. “His name is Connor. Last time I saw him, he was very badly hurt, and I want to make sure he’s safe and gets the help he needs. He looks like me.”

          Hank moves away from the sound of their voices. The floorboards protest under his weight, so he moves as slowly and quietly as he can.

          There’s the slightest hesitation in her voice. “You want to help him.” It was a mangled sentence, caught between a plea, a command, a question, and a desperate cry for help.

          “Of course. And I can see you do as well.”

          “Yes.” Her voice goes soft, fragile.

          Hank keeps moving. His body wants to lock up, hoping against hope that this android girl would give up the ghost and drop the gun, but he won’t let it. He’s close to the door now. Please let Connor be in here…

          His finger all but touches the doorknob, soundless, but the air shifts.

          Hank immediately ducks for cover when a shot fires through the room, hitting the wall he’s braced against. It misses, or maybe the bullet didn’t go all the way through, but he can still feel the vibrations against his spine.

          “ _Get away from here_ ,” she snarls.

          “Calm down, ma’am.”

          She spins on Conrad. “That’s a human.”

          “That’s no reason to fire off any warning shots.”

          “ _Traitor_ ,” she hisses.

          “He’s a friend.” Conrad assures her. There’s a hitch in his voice that tells Hank he now has the gun aimed at him. “He wants Connor safe as well. He won’t hurt you or him.”

          “I want him _out_.”

          “I’m afraid we can’t do that.” Conrad says. “Not until Connor is safe.” With no response, he keeps talking. Hank stays rooted where he is. “I don’t know what happened to you, but I assure you that the world has changed while you’ve been hiding. Androids have rights. We’re citizens now. And if we can find a reasonable case for the abuse you’ve suffered, we will bring those people to justice, but we can’t do any of that until you put down the gun.”

          Hank could get in a shot if he needed to, at least to disarm her, but that would require putting himself back in the line of fire. That girl has one hell of an aiming ability. He might be dead before he even has the chance to try.

          “Do you want him to die?” Conrad’s voice is powerful, harsh. It bounces off the walls with force. “I can see the Thirium trails; I know how badly he was injured. If you keep him here, he’ll enter critical shutdown mode and he won’t wake up. Is that what you want for him? Is this how you show people you care?”

          Three rapid steps backward. “He won’t. He’ll be okay. I can—”

          “You _can’t_.” Conrad pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is infinitely softer. “Not unless we can help. _Let us help_. He’s important to us too.”

          “I’m not letting the humans hurt him again. They’ll hurt him,” she says, but it comes out as more of a question.

          “No one will hurt him. I give you my word.” Two gentle strides. “Thank you.” Conrad raises his voice. “I have the gun, Hank. Go ahead.”

          The android rounds the corner, Conrad in tow. He’s cuffing her. She’s crying.

          When she looks at him, her gaze is nothing short of pleading. “He’s right in there. Please. Make sure he’s okay.”

          “I’ve contacted Markus.” Conrad tells him. “He’s sending a medic as we speak.”

          Hank nods and opens the door.

          The more skeptical part of him isn’t expecting this to be over. Like he’ll be walking right into a trap instead. But no. There he is. Just like the android girl said.

          _Connor._

          He’s curled up on a filthy mattress, wrapped in filthy blankets. Thirium soaks through every piece of fabric. It glimmers in the faint light, reflecting just how much blood he’s lost.

          His eyelids twitch, his gaze drifting in and out of focus. He doesn’t even react to Hank entering.

          “Connor?” Hank reaches out, but pulls away. Connor looks so fragile, like he might break at the slightest touch. “Connor, can you hear me?”

          To his relief, Connor looks at him. “Yes,” he answers. After a moment, he adds. “I’m bleeding quite profusely.”

          Hank chuckles. “I know, Con. We’ll get you squared, real soon.” He swallows back the lump in his throat. “Can you stand?”

          Connor shakes his head. “I’ve tried.” He pauses again. “My balance receptors are getting increasingly difficult to calibrate. This room isn’t spinning, is it?”

          “It’s not.” His hands ache to scoop Connor up, to hold him tight and never let go, but he knows doing that would only make Connor’s condition worse. “Just hang on for a little while longer, kid.”

          “Okay.” Connor blinks heavily and lifts his head to look at Hank. The next words out of his mouth are like a bullet to Hank’s chest.

          “Do I know you?”


	9. Chapter 9

          The worst of it is over.

          Connor’s safe and recovering, safe in the medical wing of Jericho.

          He can’t see out of his left eye. He has over a dozen open wounds, all leaking concerning degrees of Thirium. That was the doctors’ first concern when they took him in. Patching up the wounds was easy for them. The real challenge was getting enough Thirium to replace what he’d lost.

          Jericho bustles with activity, now more than ever. It seems every android with repair skills dropped everything to come over and help. Most of them don’t care for or even know Connor, so she can only imagine the speeches Markus had to make to get them rallying back here.

          She spots Hank sitting on a stack of crates, looking worse for wear by the minute. She’s not sure what possesses her to approach him, but she does.

          “Hey, Hank.” She awkwardly sits beside him. “How’s it going?”

          Hank shrugs noncomittally.

          North wishes she knew what to say, but the facts are, she barely knows Hank, and she certainly doesn’t know how to address the situation.

          Connor’s damaged memory bank is an entirely different beast. The most he’s been able to tell anyone is his name, model number, and purpose. Anything aside from that, he just frowns and says, “That information is inaccessible.”

          It must be tearing Hank apart, for Connor to not even recognize him. North has barely seen him leave the Jericho compound, aside from work, and the times when he does leave, it’s usually at Conrad’s insistence.

          She hates to admit it, but he’s done quite a lot. For all of them.

          “I’m here.” Hank says. “Once his repairs are done, he’s free to come home with me. I’ve already gotten a call from Kamski offering to help with rebooting his memory banks.” He shakes his head. “I don’t trust that guy, but what else am I going to do?”

          “I’m sorry.” It’s weak, but it’s the most she can say.

          “Don’t worry about it. In fact, thank you.”

          “For freezing up outside the house? I didn’t do anything.”

          “And we wouldn’t have even been there if you hadn’t found it. You did a lot. Listen,” he says, shifting gears. “I know how it feels to be at your limit. There are some things you just can’t do, no matter how hard you try, and I won’t fault you for that.”

          She rubs at her arm, her eyes on the floor. “Thanks.”

          “Of course.” Hank pauses to check his phone, so North averts her eyes. “You’re more than welcome to visit him once he’s doing better.”

          That gets a smile from her. “Thanks.”

          Another android comes bustling buy, holding a fresh cannister of Thirium, and disappears into Connor’s tent.

          He comes out not a moment later, going into the adjacent tent.

          “That poor android girl.” Hank says. “Did you know that when Conrad got the gun from her, she turned to me and begged me to make sure Connor was okay?” He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t wanna know what people did to her to make her so afraid.”

          She can practically hear Markus’s voice. _What are you waiting for? You must go talk to her._

          “From the sounds of it, even she doesn’t know. She has the same memory bank damage Connor has.”

          “I heard.” Markus told her specifically.

          “They’re thinking of opening an investigation since memory banks are so hard to corrupt. DPD suspects foul play.”

          North nods. “I’ll come by later,” she says by way of excusing herself. She rushes over to the tent, ducking in before she can talk herself out of it.

          The android medic offers her a greeting, but she barely hears it. She walks straight for the damaged android, the one wrapped in various tapes and bandages, a Thirium IV in her arm. On one side, she’s damaged beyond repair, but on the other, it’s like she hasn’t changed at all.

          “Cindi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! I almost forgot! You can vote for what you want my next fic to be below!
> 
> https://strawpoll.com/6cs5a54z

**Author's Note:**

> mcschnuggles.tumblr.com


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